An Epic Road Trip and Fantastical Semi-Memoir

Living life is nothing that any moron or better
couldn''t accomplish, even without setting one''s mind to it. The trick
is to do something with that life. Or live several at once, so that
one could at least be a success in one of them. 

Herbert, having endured his mid-life crisis with
all the aplomb possibly available to him, now was set on making a new
life for himself. This is his book. 

Such a book has parallels with our own. That is
life for you - it sneaks up on you and drops some odd segue or link
into some other person''s scene and then just nips away, as if it was
mainlining pixie dust or some super-quantum Dune drug. Blue eyes and
all. 

You see, Herbert does live more than one
life at once. Shackled to the mundane world of the Midwest warehouse
laborer, he yet lives in worlds of extreme science, wild fantasy
environments and incredibly sensuous surroundings. For Herbert reads
books, surfs the Internet and has an overactive imagination. 

But let''s meet our hero... 

- - - -

Excerpt:

Driving down Interstate 40 after leaving LA
was a bit of a non-scene. Desert and highway didn''t change that much
after Barstow. Modern highways are built to be safe and wide in
America. Deserts were designed by God to be hostile and unforgiving
for any who broke down out there. Highways had the occasional
road-side phone and also Patrol coming along. Deserts had cacti, dust
and not much else. 

Herbert. That''s me. There''s about 5 or 6
variations of that name, but only one I would answer to. Comes from
being raised in a family of 10. You had to pick an identity and stick
with it, or drown in the uncertain melange of other lives around you.
This is my life, at least as I recall it. 40+ years old and leaving
the known for the formerly known in order to make some sense of my
life. Not that I was confused. But what I had been doing didn''t make
sense anymore, so I was now driving from LA, away from the
nonsensical, toward the sensible. 

Barstow itself hadn''t changed much since I had
been there some 20 years ago. I had gone to Vegas to get married and
found that Barstow was an interesting rest stop. I was the only one
with a license,and so was the elected driver. We took off late after
work - two couples in one car, both seeking an instant marriage and
abbreviated honeymoon on the way back. We had essentially 48 hours to
pull the whole thing off. So, with the late start and nerves keeping
me up the night before, lack of sleep started taking its toll after
midnight. Pulled over by a trooper, who noticed the car was weaving.
So we stopped in Barstow for a couple of hours - they went in and had
some food, I slept (but first my wife-to-be and I "made out"
in the front seat, just short of having sex - which was forbidden as
part of the Center. 

A rise in the highway brought my attention back to
the current, swerving the heavy loaded rental truck to stay between
the lines. Topping the slight rise, I saw only the black parallel
bars of highway stretching again into the darkening desert, the sun
behind me along with a tail wind, pushing me ever home and away from
Center forever. 

Center had been something which promised answers
to all my many questions about how the universe operated. They said
that you just had to follow their exact path and keep studying the
books and lectures of their founder. One day, in an ever-increasing
but gentle gradient, you would know Truth and this hope kept you
going - along with the required annual celebrations you were required
to attend where the official PR was read out by executives...

An Epic Road Trip and Fantastical Semi-Memoir

Living life is nothing that any moron or better
couldn''t accomplish, even without setting one''s mind to it. The trick
is to do something with that life. Or live several at once, so that
one could at least be a success in one of them. 

Herbert, having endured his mid-life crisis with
all the aplomb possibly available to him, now was set on making a new
life for himself. This is his book. 

Such a book has parallels with our own. That is
life for you - it sneaks up on you and drops some odd segue or link
into some other person''s scene and then just nips away, as if it was
mainlining pixie dust or some super-quantum Dune drug. Blue eyes and
all. 

You see, Herbert does live more than one
life at once. Shackled to the mundane world of the Midwest warehouse
laborer, he yet lives in worlds of extreme science, wild fantasy
environments and incredibly sensuous surroundings. For Herbert reads
books, surfs the Internet and has an overactive imagination. 

But let''s meet our hero... 

- - - -

Excerpt:

Driving down Interstate 40 after leaving LA
was a bit of a non-scene. Desert and highway didn''t change that much
after Barstow. Modern highways are built to be safe and wide in
America. Deserts were designed by God to be hostile and unforgiving
for any who broke down out there. Highways had the occasional
road-side phone and also Patrol coming along. Deserts had cacti, dust
and not much else. 

Herbert. That''s me. There''s about 5 or 6
variations of that name, but only one I would answer to. Comes from
being raised in a family of 10. You had to pick an identity and stick
with it, or drown in the uncertain melange of other lives around you.
This is my life, at least as I recall it. 40+ years old and leaving
the known for the formerly known in order to make some sense of my
life. Not that I was confused. But what I had been doing didn''t make
sense anymore, so I was now driving from LA, away from the
nonsensical, toward the sensible. 

Barstow itself hadn''t changed much since I had
been there some 20 years ago. I had gone to Vegas to get married and
found that Barstow was an interesting rest stop. I was the only one
with a license,and so was the elected driver. We took off late after
work - two couples in one car, both seeking an instant marriage and
abbreviated honeymoon on the way back. We had essentially 48 hours to
pull the whole thing off. So, with the late start and nerves keeping
me up the night before, lack of sleep started taking its toll after
midnight. Pulled over by a trooper, who noticed the car was weaving.
So we stopped in Barstow for a couple of hours - they went in and had
some food, I slept (but first my wife-to-be and I "made out"
in the front seat, just short of having sex - which was forbidden as
part of the Center. 

A rise in the highway brought my attention back to
the current, swerving the heavy loaded rental truck to stay between
the lines. Topping the slight rise, I saw only the black parallel
bars of highway stretching again into the darkening desert, the sun
behind me along with a tail wind, pushing me ever home and away from
Center forever. 

Center had been something which promised answers
to all my many questions about how the universe operated. They said
that you just had to follow their exact path and keep studying the
books and lectures of their founder. One day, in an ever-increasing
but gentle gradient, you would know Truth and this hope kept you
going - along with the required annual celebrations you were required
to attend where the official PR was read out by executives...

An Epic Road Trip and Fantastical Semi-Memoir

Living life is nothing that any moron or better
couldn''t accomplish, even without setting one''s mind to it. The trick
is to do something with that life. Or live several at once, so that
one could at least be a success in one of them. 

Herbert, having endured his mid-life crisis with
all the aplomb possibly available to him, now was set on making a new
life for himself. This is his book. 

Such a book has parallels with our own. That is
life for you - it sneaks up on you and drops some odd segue or link
into some other person''s scene and then just nips away, as if it was
mainlining pixie dust or some super-quantum Dune drug. Blue eyes and
all. 

You see, Herbert does live more than one
life at once. Shackled to the mundane world of the Midwest warehouse
laborer, he yet lives in worlds of extreme science, wild fantasy
environments and incredibly sensuous surroundings. For Herbert reads
books, surfs the Internet and has an overactive imagination. 

But let''s meet our hero... 

- - - -

Excerpt:

Driving down Interstate 40 after leaving LA
was a bit of a non-scene. Desert and highway didn''t change that much
after Barstow. Modern highways are built to be safe and wide in
America. Deserts were designed by God to be hostile and unforgiving
for any who broke down out there. Highways had the occasional
road-side phone and also Patrol coming along. Deserts had cacti, dust
and not much else. 

Herbert. That''s me. There''s about 5 or 6
variations of that name, but only one I would answer to. Comes from
being raised in a family of 10. You had to pick an identity and stick
with it, or drown in the uncertain melange of other lives around you.
This is my life, at least as I recall it. 40+ years old and leaving
the known for the formerly known in order to make some sense of my
life. Not that I was confused. But what I had been doing didn''t make
sense anymore, so I was now driving from LA, away from the
nonsensical, toward the sensible. 

Barstow itself hadn''t changed much since I had
been there some 20 years ago. I had gone to Vegas to get married and
found that Barstow was an interesting rest stop. I was the only one
with a license,and so was the elected driver. We took off late after
work - two couples in one car, both seeking an instant marriage and
abbreviated honeymoon on the way back. We had essentially 48 hours to
pull the whole thing off. So, with the late start and nerves keeping
me up the night before, lack of sleep started taking its toll after
midnight. Pulled over by a trooper, who noticed the car was weaving.
So we stopped in Barstow for a couple of hours - they went in and had
some food, I slept (but first my wife-to-be and I "made out"
in the front seat, just short of having sex - which was forbidden as
part of the Center. 

A rise in the highway brought my attention back to
the current, swerving the heavy loaded rental truck to stay between
the lines. Topping the slight rise, I saw only the black parallel
bars of highway stretching again into the darkening desert, the sun
behind me along with a tail wind, pushing me ever home and away from
Center forever. 

Center had been something which promised answers
to all my many questions about how the universe operated. They said
that you just had to follow their exact path and keep studying the
books and lectures of their founder. One day, in an ever-increasing
but gentle gradient, you would know Truth and this hope kept you
going - along with the required annual celebrations you were required
to attend where the official PR was read out by executives...